Heart on Fire (Abandoned)
by ericakc19
Summary: What if Katniss and Peeta won the 73rd Hunger Games, who would they mentor in the 74th? As punishment for her stunt with the berries, Katniss will have to mentor the one person she would never want to see in the Games. How far will she go to save them?
1. Chapter 1: The Reaping

**A/N: Okay...so I know I said I'd update with the revised chapters soon, and that was definitely probably over a month ago. I've been busy and I got quite distracted over the last couple weeks. But, as promised, here is the first chapter, revised and better than before! I know a lot of the content in this chapter you've already read, but there is new stuff and I really recommend reading it. There's a completely different mood set in this one than the other. See if you can find all the differences(; **

**Thank you all for your support and patience! I finished this chapter awhile ago, but I either didn't have the chance to upload it, or I was just too lazy. I suck, I'm sorry. But I'll have the next ones up shortly! **

**To add for all the new readers; this fanfic is based in the seventy-fourth Hunger Games, and Katniss and Peeta won the seventy-third instead. **

**So thank you all so much for reading/re-reading! And please review! I'd love to know what you guys think of the revision(:**

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><p><strong>Heart on Fire<strong>

**Chapter 1: The Reaping**

As usual, I wake shaking and dripping with sweat from another nightmare. The kind so familiar to me after Peeta and I left the Games. They haunted me just about every night, and he wasn't there to chase them away. In fact, he hasn't really spoken much to me after the train ride home. After I told him the way I acted in the Games was just that; _for the Games._ I still don't fully understand why he's so upset about it—wasn't the way he acted just an ultimate plot to survive? Hadn't it been that way from the beginning? From the moment he decided to declare his love for me—real or not—to the whole entire country?

A plan which he hadn't bothered to tell me one word about, and then just so happened decided to leave me out of every single other decision he made. Like joining the Careers to supposedly "save me". I had a right to be angry too, and so I will be.

This nightmare was different though; it didn't have any blood-thirsty muttations, or tracker jackers, or even deadly fireballs. No fallen tributes come to forever haunt me in my unconscious, not even the death of Rue to replay through my head a thousand times over. This one was about today, and the events that would inevitably happen. Today is reaping day for the 74th Hunger Games, where the tributes Peeta and I will mentor this year will be chosen. This year, I should have nothing to fear, but I'm completely terrified. Much more than I was last year. Last year I was only concerned about my own name being drawn—not in my wildest dreams had I imagined Prim's single slip would be chosen. But it's not Prim's name I'm worried about this year either.

Of course, his now forty-two slips already put him at a disadvantage, but even that doesn't matter this year. Because the boy tribute has already been chosen. Every single slip in the boy's reaping ball is probably rigged to bear the name "Gale Hawthorne." After all, President Snow said so himself. Or, I understand him enough to know what the consequence of my unorthodox victory last year would be.

I can't bring myself to say I regret the stunt with the berries. After all, it was the right thing to do. I could never forgive myself if I just waited for Peeta to bleed out and die. How could I come home after doing such a thing? I couldn't kill Peeta, nor could I let him die. But I also wouldn't let him die for me. He may do it in extremely infuriating ways, but he's saved me more times than I can count. I had to repay him, and I still do. There was only one choice, really. To both die and leave the Hunger Games victorless. We didn't know the consequences of our actions, but we still would have done the same thing even knowing them now. There was nothing else to do.

But, instead of simply endangering our lives—or more, my life—I've also endangered Gale's. I've practically signed his death sentence. President Snow's words replay over and over in my head; _"Him I can easily kill off if we don't come to a happy resolution. You aren't doing him a favor by disappearing into the woods with him each Sunday"_

Some friend I am.

And I suppose that kiss did nothing to help my case. What kind of girl in love wanders off into the woods and kisses another boy? It was just once, and neither of us has mentioned it since, but it still happened. And apparently President Snow is well aware of it, too, and he sees right through my "innocent girl in love" act. To him, Peeta was willing to eat the berries simply out of being foolishly and hopelessly in love. But for me…I was trying to incite a rebellion. And in the irony of it all, I was only trying to bring us both home alive, or…not. What _was_ I trying to do? Show the Capitol we aren't pieces in their Games? Which is all rebellious behavior. Do what I thought was right? This sounds more like me, but it just doesn't seem to fully cover it. Was I doing it out of love? Maybe, if only I was actually in love.

I groan and press my face into my pillow.

How had I made my life so complicated this quickly? This time last year I was only worried about making it through another reaping, and now I'm not only fearing for my life, but my family's, Gale's, and Peeta's. All these people I've endangered because I pulled out a handful of stupid berries. Because I volunteered in order to save my sister's life, only to be trying to save another...and now another. Why must I always choose to be the protector, and never the one being protected? It sure would make my life a _lot_ easier.

The house is silent around me, still too early for anyone to be up and moving yet. A dress is laid out for me as usual on this day, only it's a dress made from Cinna's hands, not one of my mother's old hand-me-downs. It isn't his typical glamorous work, however, but more simple for the occasion. I ignore it for now and cross the hall to hop into the shower.

The water helps to calm my nerves, but it doesn't completely drown them like I want it to. My mind drifts over to Peeta. He's probably still sleeping. That or he's just now waking up from a nightmare. Sometimes I worry about him—actually, more often than not. He's all alone in that house with his nightmares to haunt him every night. I don't see him out much either. Or maybe that's just because I hardly leave the house anymore. Only on Sundays really when Gale and I go hunting, or occasionally to do errands. My mother is starting to worry about me.

When the water goes cool I decide it's probably time to get out. But even then I only wrap a towel around me and curl up on the floor, resting my head on the cool bathroom tile. I close my eyes and try to relax, but I don't make much progress.

There's a soft knock on the door a few minutes later, and my mother pokes her head in. I sit up against the counter and give her a small smile. But she's smart enough to know when I'm faking it.

"Feeling okay?" she asks me.

I simply shrug and let out a sigh. She takes a seat beside me, closing the door behind her.

"Turn," she murmurs, so I do. Her hands begin to work through my hair, braiding it in the updo she did last year that Cinna enjoyed so much. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head.

"Okay."

My mother and I's relationship has begun to improve. She isn't the lifeless mother who let her daughters starve after my father's death and for years after that. After I left, she picked herself back up and started to be herself again. She took care of Prim when I wasn't around to. After Gale was whipped—or more like tortured—and she treated him, she's even begun to get back into doing the same for the sick and injured around town, as well. But I most love the times when she's around to talk, or when I don't want to talk. When I do, she sits and listens, and when I don't, she simply nods and tries to comfort me in other ways. Like now. It's what I really need.

"Peeta brought over some cheese buns earlier," she says conversationally, her precise and delicate hands working so swiftly through my hair.

"Peeta was here?" I ask, suddenly sparking my interest. Why didn't he ask for me?

"Mm-hm. Said he couldn't sleep and thought he'd bring us over breakfast. He's really a sweet boy."

I can't help but feel a little upset he didn't even say hello to me. Then I remember we aren't really speaking, which is much more upsetting all on its own. He's one of the only people I can actually talk to, and that I _enjoy_ talking to, and he's not around. Which is my fault, of course. As usual, no surprise there.

When my mother finishes my hair she pats my shoulder and kisses my cheek. "Get dressed and come downstairs for breakfast, okay?"

"Okay," I answer.

She leaves the bathroom then, returning only to hang my dress on the doorknob and head right back out, closing the door behind her.

I sigh and pull the soft blue dress over my head. It really is a pretty dress, but I don't want to wear it. I really want to just crawl back into bed and stay there all through the reaping, but I can't. Snow himself would probably send Peacekeepers to drag me out just to make sure I'm there to watch my best friend get thrown into the slaughter. He'll probably have the cameras trained on my face moments _before_ Gale's name is even called—never wanting to miss a moment of my agony.

I brush my teeth and then head downstairs for breakfast, though I really don't feel like eating anything—except Peeta's cheese buns. They're my favorite, there's no way I could resist. Especially knowing they were made by Peeta's hands.

My mother has made several other dishes for breakfast, but my hands only reach for a cheese bun. That's all I want.

As I eat, Prim comes down the stairs. She's still dressed in her nightgown with a sleepy Buttercup in her arms—who narrows his devious little yellow eyes at me.

"Morning, Little Duck," I say to her.

"Good morning," she yawns.

The rest of the morning goes by much too quickly. Haymitch stops by and rambles on and on about how Peeta and I still have to act in love for the cameras and Effie frets about the dark bags under my eyes and that I should really get more sleep on such a big, big, big day. As if every day wasn't "big, big, big!" to her. She looks extravagant as usual with a light orange wig this year—probably something to do with the whole fire thing I started last year, among other things. Peeta arrives shortly after, and we silently hold hands all the way to the town square. It's only for the cameras though. I can tell by the way his hand barely wraps around mine, and the limp way he holds it, as if he can't stand even being next to me.

Effie directs us up on the stage, and I sit between Peeta and Haymitch as we wait for the reaping to begin. I spot Gale as he makes his way to the male section of the square, looking surprisingly calm.

I never told him about what President Snow said, because I don't need anyone else to worry for him, especially not himself. Well, actually, he probably wouldn't even worry about himself. He'd worry for his family and how they'd stay fed if his name was drawn. Exactly the reason I told Prim to make sure they never went without food or supplies if that were to happen—hypothetically, of course. In fact, knowing Gale like I do, it would probably make him _want_ to be in the Games. Just to prove that Snow and the rest of the Capitol were beneath him, and he would beat them at their own game. If, somehow, he didn't get chosen, he would probably volunteer anyway, and I can't have that. I haven't actually told anyone about what President Snow said and the likely results of this year's reaping except for Haymitch. I might have told Peeta if we were speaking right now.

Effie skips up to the podium, greeting everyone with her signature, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" Then she introduces Mayor Undersee, who once again recites the History of Panem speech. All too soon it seems it's time for the drawing.

"And now the moment we've all been waiting for," Effie giggles, even though no one in the audience is remotely close to how excited she is. "Ladies first!"

My heart begins to pick up speed as she crosses over to the glass bowl filled with the girl's slips, and plunges her hand in. I can't even bear to think how much of a heart-wrenching twist it would be if she were to pull both Prim and Gale's names. Especially now that I can't volunteer for her. Either way I'd lose one of them, no matter which way you spin it, and I'd bet money which one it would be. Gale would gladly die if it meant Prim could come home. Sweat begins to bead at my forehead, and Effie takes her time fishing around the bowl, though I wish she'd just get it over with already.

Finally, she pulls a single slip out and slowly unfolds it as she heads back to the podium.

"Maisie Farrowe!" she announces. There's a collective sigh of relief from the remaining teenage girls and, somewhere in the square, a family bursts into tears.

I watch Maisie as she makes her way to the stage, eyes wide with fear. She's in my grade at school; a very pretty girl and daughter of the couple who owns the sweet shop in town—their _only_ daughter, to my knowledge.

Effie welcomes Maisie to the stage, and then calls for applause. Like every year, only a few people clap—which then dies out as quickly as it started Except for last year of course, when every person held up their hands in a three-finger salute to me. But no one would dare do that now. For us in District 12, being chosen for the Hunger Games is no achievement. It's a death sentence. You'd think the District 12 tributes were being punished for something—being so ill-prepared for the Games. The children even eligible for the Hunger Games are still too young to get any training for the mines, so even that advantage is out, if you could even call it an advantage.

Effie awkwardly clears her throat. "And now it's time for our male tribute!" she says in her ridiculous Capitol accent. I may have come to like her a bit more in the past year, but the accent is something I can never get past.

My stomach churns and Peeta's cheese buns threaten to make their reappearance all over the stage as Effie proceeds to the boy's reaping ball.

"Hold it together," Haymitch mutters under his breath, earning a curious yet suspicious look from Peeta.

_Hold it together,_ as if it were possible.

She pulls out a slip, then crosses back to the podium. I resort to digging my nails into the palms of both of my hands.

"And the male tribute for the seventy-fourth Hunger Games is…"

I find Gale in the crowd, and my heart is hammering in my chest as I try to swallow through the thick lump in my throat. He meets my gaze and sends me a small smile. But…I can't bring myself to smile back, knowing what I've done to him. I know whose name is on that slip. I know the name about to be uttered from Effie Trinket's lips. I know the face every camera in the vicinity is going to be zoomed in on in a matter of seconds. The same face that'll be replayed over and over on the recaps of the reapings later tonight. So I don't smile back at him.

He notices.

"Gale Hawthorne!"

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading, and please please review!(:**


	2. Chapter 2: The Meeting

**A/N: I know it's been forever. I suck, I'm sorry. Thanks for your patience. I decided to condense some chapters to make them longer for you guys. And I'm going to work my hardest to make them all relatively long! And I also decided to throw some conflict in between Katniss and Peeta instead of starting them off all lovey-dovey. It was kind of lame, and I really want to stick to the characters/events of the original story. Don't worry; I promise it'll be good. Thank you all for bearing with me! Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Heart on Fire<strong>

**Chapter 2: The Meeting**

"Ladies and gentleman, your District Twelve tributes for the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games!" Effie announces.

Gale stands stiffly on the stage, mere feet from me, his figure slightly blurred by the every growing amount of tears filling my eyes. Though I knew this would happen, it still doesn't erase the shock and agony that radiates through my body. I knew this moment would come, but I still never imagined how it would feel when Gale's name fluttered off Effie's lips—my nightmare officially coming true. My stomach is churning and the sun suddenly feels twenty-times hotter. Haymitch has to keep reminding me to breathe.

I stare at Gale's back, wishing I could grab him and make a break for our woods. Though that isn't even remotely likely. The Capitol guards would shoot us both in the back before we could get off the stage. Snow is just itching for a reason to kill me off. So instead I'm left wondering how in the world I'm going to keep Gale alive in just a couple of weeks. I could barely protect myself in my _own_ games. Actually, Peeta protected me half the time, and I didn't even realize it then.

Mayor Undersee reads the Treaty of Treason, and then calls for Gale and Maisie to shake hands. The anthem plays, and then they're whisked away by a swarm of Peacekeepers. And I'm left with Peeta and Haymitch in an awkwardly silent car to board the train.

"When were you two going to tell me you knew Gale's name would be drawn?" Peeta asks angrily, his nostrils flared and hands clenched into tight fists.

And then I'm suddenly angry at his question and his accusing tone. "When were _you_ two going to tell me about everything you had planned last year?"

That shuts him up—fortunately. He tightens his jaw and stares bitterly out the window. It may have been rude and uncalled for, but I don't care. He's being completely hypocritical and he deserves it.

"Maybe if you were speaking to me I would have told you," I growl, crossing my arms against my chest.

He guffaws. "Maybe if you—" he begins, but Haymitch cuts him off.

"That's enough you two! You're going to have to put aside your differences and act like your _both_ happily in love. Understand?"

"Well it's only acting for one of us, isn't it, Katniss?" Peeta says harshly.

I wince at the sting of his comment. I knew we weren't currently on speaking terms, but I had no idea it had gotten to this point. Had I really made him so mad to lash out at me in this way? Or is he really that hurt by my not reciprocating the romantic feelings he apparently has for me? Hadn't he brought cheese buns over just this morning? Or were they meant for my mother and Prim?

"That's enough!" Haymitch shouts. "I'm your mentor, not your damn babysitter! The Capitol only allowed me to come help mentor your tributes for the Games, not to mentor you two in the fundamentals of acting your age and maintaining a healthy relationship. I'll stay right where I am if you two are going to act like a couple of immature children," he scolds us, then shakes his head disappointedly. "I need a drink," he mutters under his breath. I had practically forced him to lighten up on the alcohol if he was going to help me get Gale through the arena, and it's obvious he's seriously regretting it now.

I tighten my arms around my chest and lean back into my seat, staring hard at nothing out the window.

Haymitch suddenly sighs a few moments later. "He'll be all right, sweetheart," Haymitch says, comfort sounding odd in his gruff, usually sarcastic, voice. At least he's sober.

Cameras surround us as we board the train. Peeta hasn't said a word to me since our little altercation and neither has Haymitch, and it only makes me more anxious for Gale to finally get here, even though I still have absolutely no idea what to say to him. I pace the small train car while both Peeta and Haymitch sit silently at the small table by the window.

I wish they'd hurry up. Or do I? As much as I want to see Gale, what am I supposed to say to him? _Oh, by the way, sorry for signing your death sentence._ That's exactly what I've done. He's only here because of me and my actions. If it wasn't for me, he could have been home with his family right now. Instead, he is saying good-bye to them—possibly forever—and it's all my fault. Some best friend I am.

"Just sit down and be patient, will you?" Haymitch complains.

I obey, though my nerves don't settle any. I resort to anxiously tapping my fingernails against the table beneath me. I had already chewed them to stubs, so instead my fingertips make a thudding sound against the glass. I'm growing more and more impatient by the minute. Why is it taking this long? Is that normal? Did something happen?

_Thud, thud, thud, thud._ Abruptly the noise stops, and I look down bewildered to find Haymitch's hand clamped around my fingers, his other hand pressed tightly against his ear.

"For God's sake, Sweetheart. _Enough_," he growls, exasperated.

I sink back into my seat. "Sorry." It seems his sobriety is taking its toll on him. Maybe if he wasn't such a lush he wouldn't be so irritable all the time.

Suddenly the train door opens and I freeze in place. From inside the car, you can see the flashing of cameras and hear the ramblings of the reporters. Maisie comes in first, then Gale, followed by Effie. Everyone else leaves the room, leaving Gale and I alone, who just sighs at me. Pathetically enough, I burst into tears and run into his already open arms. He simply chuckles at me and all of my ridiculousness as if it wasn't him going into the arena in a matter of two weeks. How he can keep so calm at a time like this confounds me.

When he gently pulls me away from him, his shirt is soaked with my tears.

"You knew," he says, his gray eyes pensive. It isn't a question, he _knows_.

I hesitate before nodding my head.

"How?"

"A couple weeks after I got home, President Snow paid me a visit," I say through my tears. "He…said that I would have consequences for what I pulled with the berries. And he…well, he threatened to take it out on you."

"You kept it from me all this time? Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, brushing a tear from my cheek. I can't tell if he's mad at me or not.

"Because…because…" I begin, but I don't know how to continue. I don't really know the answer to that question besides the obvious. "Because I was scared. I was scared you'd be angry with me. I didn't know how to tell you and I didn't know how you'd react. I've screwed everything up and now I've brought you into it. I'm so sorry, Gale. I never meant for any of this to happen," I ramble, tears flowing down my cheeks again.

He lifts my chin up, forcing me to look at him. "Listen to me, okay? I'm not mad at you, and this isn't your fault. I don't blame you. But you don't have to keep things from me. I can handle things better than you can," he teases, smiling.

I can't help but smile. "You're going to win. I'll make sure of it, okay?"

He chuckles. "I don't need your help, Katniss. After all, I have a much better chance of winning than you ever did."

I laugh and slap his shoulder. "You need me; you just don't know it yet."

After I'm all cried out and calmed down, we head into the dining car where everyone is already eating without us. Well, everyone except Maisie, who is lifelessly pushing her food around with her fork. Peeta still has a sour look on his face, and he doesn't acknowledge us or even look up when we enter the room. Gale takes his seat next to Maisie and I sit in the empty seat between him and Haymitch—distancing myself as far away from Peeta as possible. I'm still angry at him for what he said earlier and for not even bothering to try and apologize.

Dinner is a silent, awkward encounter, where I barely eat anything and Effie rambles on about meaningless things to the rest of us that I doubt anyone listens to. Maisie sits silently, pushing her food around with her fork. The torture continues as we watch the recap of the reapings. I can't seem to focus on any of the other Districts, but once District 12 comes on, I can't tear my eyes away from the screen.

I watch as Maisie's name is called and she heads up to the stage. My own fear is hard to miss as I sit paralyzed in my seat when Effie walks over to the boy's reaping ball. I relive the moment all over again, as if it's still happening. My body tenses up as Gale's name is called and he takes his place. They shake hands, and the final playing of the anthem ends the broadcast.

As soon as I can, I silently sneak off to my room and crawl into the seat next to the window. I watch as the scenery whizzes past the moving train in a blur of shapes and colors. I wish I could be back in District 12; hunting every Sunday with Gale, spending the day with Peeta or Prim, and everything just being normal and easy. I find myself craving my life before the Games. Always just barely having enough to get by. I prefer it more than having bucket-loads of money at my fingertips. At least before the Games I worked and earned the money and resources we had. Instead, I'm handed all this money for managing to kill and survive twenty-three other teenagers who were all just trying to go back home. Well, in my case twenty-two.

And then I'm suddenly longing for Peeta. For his gentle, comforting touch that always chases the nightmares away. If only he weren't mad at me right now. But, he should be, and I deserve it.

But I wish I didn't.

I kick off my shoes and crawl into bed in just a t-shirt. It's not long at all before sleep finds me.

The next morning seems even less bearable than the previous. I'm awoken by yet another nightmare where I'm being chased by the tribute muttations, only this time one of them resembled Peeta in its blue eyes and wavy blonde fur. It didn't help that Effie burst in only a few minutes later cheerfully stating that today is a big, big, big day! Her unnecessary enthusiasm at such an unenthusiastic time left my mood that much more sour.

Once again, the shower did nothing to solve my problems, and now I sit silently at the dining table, repeatedly stabbing a chunk of ham.

"I think it's dead, Catnip," Gale chuckles, grinning at me.

I glare at him in response. "Shut up," I mutter.

"Katniss, where are your manners?" Effie scolds me.

"That's alright, Effie. Katniss just isn't much of a morning person," Gale explains. Effie's cheeks turn a light shade of pink and she smiles to herself. I wonder if she realizes what Gale is telling her is a complete lie. I was always at our usual meeting place in the woods _way_ before him. There he goes again with his buoyant mood, as if he isn't about to be sent to his death. If I didn't know better I'd think he was becoming the new Effie.

Maisie enters the room then without a word, her eyes red and puffy. I don't really blame her. She must have already realized she won't have much of a chance in the arena. The Seam kids had more of an advantage than the Merchant kids because they already knew what it was like to starve and provide for themselves, but even those chances were slim.

I try not to let myself feel sorry for her—because that would hurt her more than it would actually help her in the end. She's a sweet girl; quiet and shy. She definitely doesn't have much of a chance anyway, training or no training, but I'd hate to see her killed off in the arena. And, in order to bring Gale home, it's necessary.

Peeta enters the dining car, fresh bags under his eyes. I know he must have had nightmares last night. Our eyes connect for a moment, and all I care about is the beautiful blue of his eyes. But that's quickly over when he tears his eyes away from mine, leaving an extremely uncomfortable empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Abruptly the car goes dark, and I realize we must be pulling into the station soon. I remember this tunnel from last year; the way it made me feel trapped and how my father must have felt the same way just before the mine exploded. Helpless, no way to escape. Being taken to my inevitable death. This time around it feels different. Because I picture Gale in the tunnels of the mine instead.

When light floods the room, Maisie unexpectedly jumps up from the table and runs over to the window. I can't help but remember how I compared the Capitol to the artificial colors of the hard candy at the sweet shop back in District 12. She must be thinking the same thing right now, and it must remind her of home, because she suddenly backs up from the window and sits back down, fresh tears in her eyes.

Gale stubbornly stayed in his seat the entire time, which doesn't actually surprise me. I just hope his hatred for the Capitol doesn't make it past the safety of him and I. They may not do anything to him outside the Games for the sake of him being a valued tribute, but once inside, there's no telling what they'd do to him. I force away the horrifying images that flood my mind.

Haymitch comes stumbling in, eyes bloodshot, and plops into a seat. Automatically he groans and rests his head in his hands. I almost feel guilty watching him suffer like this, but it's in the best interest of all of us.

I clear my throat. "Once we get to the Capitol they're going to take you to the Remake Center. You're going to hate what they're going to do to you, but you'll just have to endure it, okay?" I'm surprised when Maisie actually listens and gives me a tiny smile of thanks. Gale just rolls his eyes and gets irritated. I think the Capitol experience might be much worse for him than the actual Games themselves.

When we reach the station, Gale and Maisie are whisked away to the Remake Center like protocol, and Haymitch, Peeta, Effie and I all gather silently in the elevator and we're shot up to the twelfth floor. This whole silent thing is really starting to get on my nerves. Normally I'm thankful when Effie finally shuts up, but at the moment I wish she wouldn't. The elevator ride seems so much longer than usual, and when we step out, a Peacekeeper is waiting just outside.

"Miss Everdeen, your presence is requested by the President," he says. My heart drops and I suddenly feel sick to my stomach as the scent of blood and roses deluges my mind. "If you'll follow me please."

I have to force my frozen muscles to move and follow the Peacekeeper to the dining room, where he stops at the entrance.

"President Snow is waiting for you in the dining room. You may go in now."

I take a deep breath, gulp, and enter. There he sits, as terrifying as ever, at the other end of the table. My stomach lurches and my legs turn to mush. This is the very last person I wanted to see today. As if the day couldn't get any worse.

"Ah, Miss Everdeen, glad you could join me. Please, sit," he says, gesturing to the seat across the table from him. Under normal circumstances I'd find it odd for me to sit at the complete opposite end of the table, but I don't question it. I'll take as much space from him and his stench as I can get.

I pull out the chair and cautiously sit down, as if it were going to explode the moment I put weight on it. Who knows; it probably will.

"How lovely it is to see you again. Interesting turn of events at the reaping, don't you think?" The evil grin on his face is enough to make me bolt out of the room, but I keep my composure. Fleeing now wouldn't help Gale, and I definitely owe him my help now.

"Actually, I wasn't very surprised," I answer, my voice surprisingly steady. "I take it you had something to do with that?"

His paper-thin lips stretch into a smile again. The guilt in his smile makes me shudder and I can feel the sweat beginning to bead on my forehead.

"Miss Everdeen, you make me seem like such a horrid individual," he says in his slow, calm voice. "After all, I gave you a more-than-fair warning. I didn't particularly _want_ to do things this way…" Liar. "However, you forced my hand. And, in addition to that, the viewers are demanding more and more drama. You gave them something more, and now they won't stand for a normal Hunger Games like in the past. You see, they just ate up your star-crossed lovers act, and now I need something else to satisfy them. You gave the people something new; something they now demand. I live to serve my people and maintain their happiness. If I hadn't rigged the reaping ball, there would be no drama; and without any drama, I would have very many people upset with me, now wouldn't I?"

"You didn't have to punish Gale. He hasn't done anything."

"Oh no, my dear, of course not. However, you have. Think of it as your punishment—one you really should have received months ago." He pauses; a dramatic, deadly pause that leaves my heart hammering in my chest. "Unless, of course, you would rather me have him executed for illegal poaching instead?"

I gulp. Great. Every word that comes out of my mouth just makes things much worse for Gale. I should really shut up…or just bolt out of the room now. But I maintain what little hold I still have on composure.

"You're just going to have him brutally murdered in the arena, anyway. What's the difference? Execution would be much more humane." I refuse to let him get to me. I am stronger than he is, and so is Gale. He hides behind all of his power, without it he'd be nothing. I refuse to let him make either of us look weak.

He raises an eyebrow at me. "But where's the fun in that, silly girl? The whole city is buzzing about the childhood best friends of District Twelve. Sadly it doesn't quite compare to the star-crossed lovers, but it is still very exciting. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

I fight the urge to clamp my teeth down on my lip, so I choose my cheek instead, that way he won't see it. Almost instantly the taste of blood fills my mouth, only bringing more to mind the horrifying man in front of me. I think I might be sick.

"And since we can't auction off _your_ purity," he continues, "I suppose your friend's will have to do. That is, if he wins, of course…"

"My purity?" I almost spit the word. "Why not?" As much as I would love to be the female version of Finnick Odair…well, I wouldn't. Just the simple idea of it terrifies me. And Gale…now I've sacrificed him to that, among other things. I just don't ever quit.

"Because you are already taken, my dear. Don't be silly. Though you and Mr. Mellark both have many takers, it would be quite the outrage to do that. The people would be outraged. So, let us hope Mr. Hawthorne makes it out unscathed. Otherwise we'll need something else from you, won't we?"

I don't answer; just stare back at him in horror. What else could he possibly take from me? No, I take that back…there is a _lot_ he could take. My mother, Peeta, Prim…I can't bear to even think about it.

He suddenly straightens up. "That is all. You may go, Miss Everdeen."

I dart out of my seat and to the door.

"Oh, Miss Everdeen?" he calls just as my hand wraps itself gratefully around the knob. I sigh; I know better than to think he would let me go that easily. I reluctantly turn back to him. "I may not want Mr. Hawthorne dead, but that doesn't mean that the rest of the tributes do not. Unlike the citizens here in the Capitol, some of the Districts are growing quite tired of all of your games. It's not me you need to be afraid of."

And with a curt nod, I push through the door and out into the hallway to my freedom. Being in that room felt like being in a cage; unable to escape. But even in the hallway I still feel like I'm suffocating.

All of this is so difficult for me to process. First Snow was threatening me, and now he's…what? Warning me? Is he trying to protect Gale? _No_, definitely not. Whatever he was intending to do by sharing that information for me, it wasn't to help me or Gale. He probably just wants a good show; yes, that's it. This is all for his ratings._ To please the citizens of the Capitol_, as he made so very annoyingly clear. After all, what's a good Hunger Games without a little show?

And then, to top it all off, this whole situation with Gale. As if him being forced to compete in the Games wasn't painstakingly unbearable to begin with, but now he has a horrendous future laid out for him if he wins. And I paved the way. I try desperately to block the hungry women throwing money at him. And not just that, but I have a ton of other problems haunting me, too.

Suddenly a big gust of wind hits me in the face as I throw open the door to the roof. My feet had carried me here without me even knowing. It's cold up here, but so refreshing. It's just what I needed. Though I wish my feet had thought to grab a jacket first. My bare arms are covered in goose-bumps.

Again my feet carry me to the fence blocking any tribute from falling—or more like jumping—from the roof, and there I crumple to the ground, pulling my knees tightly against my chest.

I've made such a mess of things. I thought I'd just win the Games and go home and live happily ever after. Well, not happy exactly, but as close as anyone in District 12 can be. That I could go home and continue to go hunting with Gale every Sunday. I wished life could just be easy, but how could I possibly think that would happen? No wonder Haymitch resorted to drinking away his sorrows.

Suddenly a large body appears beside me, its features dark from the night sky that I can't quite make out. I'm startled for a moment before I realize its Peeta. Apparently the noisy wind could mute even his loud footsteps.

"May I sit down?" he asks, seeming slightly uncomfortable. A little odd, since he's always so confident and composed.

I'm still angry with him, so I turn away and scowl at a Capitol building beyond our own. "Go ahead."

He sits silently beside me, and that's the way it stays for several minutes. The fact that he has absolutely nothing to say to me irritates me. Especially because I came up here to think in private and now I can't even do that.

As if he could read my thoughts, he suddenly clears his throat. "I wanted to apologize for what I said yesterday. It was uncalled for."

I don't say anything, and I can feel his eyes on my face, watching closely for every hint of an emotion in it. He was always so good at reading people—it was all a part of his charm. And right now I despise it.

"It's just…I didn't like feeling left out of such crucial information," he continues. _Now you know how I feel._ "And I know things have been…well, weird between us so I can understand why you didn't say anything. I guess I just felt like I could have helped if you told me."

I've never seen Peeta fumble and search for the words to explain himself like this before. He is always so precise and sure. Not like me.

So, I could decide to let my anger with him go and accept his apology and move on, or I could hold on to my anger a bit longer.

Suddenly I'm glaring at him straight in his blue eyes. "Just like how you and Haymitch decided to cook up the story about the stupid 'star-crossed lovers of District 12' and not tell me a single word about it? And guess where that's gotten us? Now Gale's life is at stake and I have to figure out some way to protect him from twenty-three other blood-thirsty tributes. And let an innocent girl from my own District die in the process. Sorry, but I don't want any more of your help," I snap.

The look on his face makes my heart sink. I shouldn't have been so harsh, but I couldn't help it. I have too much built-up frustration and he got caught in the crossfire. I should have just forgiven him, but I didn't. I should have let him die in the arena…but I couldn't. _Why couldn't I?_

He looks away from me, his beautiful blue eyes filled with pain. "Good night, Katniss," he says, and gets up and walks away. Part of me wants to call him back to me; to apologize for everything I said.

But I don't.

And so he walks away from me, leaving that empty feeling in the pit of my stomach again. Only it's much worse this time because, no matter how much I don't want to admit it, I need him right now, but I'm only pushing him further and further away.

Fed up with this entire situation, I stalk back inside and straight into my room, disregarding both my dinner and my tributes. Instead I decide to send everything I can get my hands on flying in all different directions around the room. Vases, ugly Capitol decorations, books, clothes. When the room is a total mess and I have a nice gash in my hand from a broken glass shard of a mirror, I decide I'm satisfied with the chaos I just created.

I crawl into bed, letting my hand bleed all over the clean white sheets. I'm both physically and mentally exhausted, and it's not long at all before sleep overpowers me. Unfortunately, the nightmares are stronger.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm going to do my best to update more often, but I've been really busy over the last few months. Don't give up on me! Please review with your thoughts on the new direction from my original story(:**


	3. A Message to My Readers

As if this weren't already plainly obvious, I will not be able to finish this story, or at least not for some time. As if life wasn't crazy for me before, I am now a full-time college student and I also work part-time. All of the free time I have for writing I dedicate to my own personal novel, so finding time for this fan-fic is close to impossible at the moment. I sincerely apologize for getting your hopes up/getting you hooked into the story-I suck, I know.

However, for those still interested in my writing I have posted my personal story on FictionPress. If you are interested in reading something I will actually continue to write and finish, here is the link!

**/s/3177851/1/Transgenic**

**Just copy+paste that into Google and click the first link!**

Thank you so much for putting up with me and my unreliability, and I hope you all will check out my story and instill your faith in me once more!


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